


drifters

by badbavarois



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Hopeful Ending, Break Up, Established Relationship, M/M, POV Alternating, POV Peter Parker, Pov ned leeds, Unreliable Narrator, an exercise in the importance of communication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-10 08:02:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12907659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badbavarois/pseuds/badbavarois
Summary: Sometimes things aren't meant to be. It doesn't mean we don't try.





	drifters

**Author's Note:**

> i worked on this for ages and then didn't touch it for a month but its done now? maybe  
> edited by rosywiki on tumblr <3

 

People drift apart after high school.

 

He had seen it coming a long time ago. He had seen it on the horizon and hoped it was just a mirage, but one month into his first semester at Stanford, it’s been two months and two weeks since he’s last heard Peter’s voice, and two months and one week since he’s last seen Peter’s face anywhere other than blurry pictures saved to his SD card, and two months since the last text he had received from Peter’s number.

 

People drift apart after high school when there’s three thousand miles between them, but Ned just never thought it would happen to them.

 

…

 

Peter hates the Avengers headquarters. It always feels so crowded, with Steve dropping by every half hour to check on him  _ (Are you comfortable? This is how you change the AC. Dinner is soon; Wanda cooked.)  _ and Vision floating in without a care in the world.

 

He’s the youngest one there and no one does much to change that. They treat him like a child and he hates it, so he ends up in a Greyhound with the spider suit and his phone charger shoved in his bag, a granola bar in his jeans pocket.

 

Flash looks pissed to high Heaven when he knocks on the door in the heat of mid-September, but he still lets him in, locking the apartment door shut and waiting for the truth to come out.

 

…

 

Ned shoves as many classes into his schedule as he can. His advisor tells him he’s going to be overwhelmed and burn out, but he doesn’t care. He still can’t decide between biochem and IT, so he spreads himself thin while trying to pick a major. 

 

His roommate tells him to just double major, that he could do it, and even if Ned knows he could, he still doesn’t trust Joan. He’s never seen them open a textbook, and in the one intro level class they share, they never do any of the discussion questions. 

 

But, at the end of the day, what he majors in doesn’t matter. He needs a distraction,  _ something  _ to his mind off of Peter. It’s nearing Thanksgiving and the Avengers haven’t been in the news since the summer and he would like to think that he would know if Peter was dying or dead, but it’s been four months since they last texted and Ned is scared.

 

…

 

“I’m going to my parents' house for Thanksgiving. It’ll just be for the night,” Flash says. They’re sitting on the couch, Flash’s legs thrown over Peter’s lap as the television plays some history documentary on Netflix. Peter doesn’t know when this started, and after everything that happened while they were in high school, neither of them want to admit there’s anything there. 

 

“I can stay at my aunt’s house - “

 

“I want you to meet them,” Flash interrupts. “It doesn’t have to be as my boyfriend, but I - I want them to know I have someone in my life.”

 

“Okay,” Peter says. “Okay,” and that’s that.

 

…

 

He settles for IT, takes a few cryptology classes and calls it a day. Joan starts using their hundred dollar textbooks, stops texting him for the answers of online quizzes and invites him to a party instead. 

 

“It’s at the LGBTQ+ house on Thanksgiving for all the people who can’t go home or aren’t out to their families,” they say. It’s two and they both have a test in their nine AM class. Ned is falling asleep while they’re pounding five hour energy. “You’re gay, right? And single?”

 

“Yeah,” he says, decidedly  _ not  _ thinking about Peter, because he’s a college student who’s not still infatuated with his high school best friend turned superhero who’s miles outside of his league.

 

“It’ll be good for you,” is all they say, smile, and return to last minute cramming. 

 

…

 

The Tuesday before Thanksgiving, Peter launches into full on panic. What if Flash’s parents hate him, what if  _ Flash  _ hates him, what if - 

 

“What are you doing, Parker?” Flash is leaning against the half open door, eyebrow raised. Peter stops pulling on the spider suit, blushing. “Is the world suddenly in danger?

 

“No?” He’s blushing harder, because Flash may not be the person he was in high school, but he still knows how to get to Peter, how to set him off.

 

“Then take the suit off, and come back to bed.”

 

…

 

They go to lunch together on Wednesday. Ned can’t eat, just pushes his pasta around in his bowl.

 

“You’ve never been to a party, have you?” Joan asks, laughing.

 

“I went to a few in high school!” Ned says, wincing. It’s not his best retort and they know it.

 

“And those definitely count. You were what, fifteen?” When he doesn’t respond, they laugh again. “It’s okay, Ned. I’ll show you the ropes.”

 

…

 

“Hey Mom,” Flash stands next to Peter, close enough to feel his body heat, their hands just talking. “This is my boyfriend, Peter.”

 

“Hello, Mrs. Thompson.” He smiles, waves, hopes he doesn’t come off as awkward as he feels. He fails, blushes, tucks his head down until Flash hip checks and he straightens his posture. 

 

“Oh. Eugene hadn’t mentioned you. It’s nice to meet you, Peter.” Her voice is cold but she still smiles, and steps to the side to let them in.

 

…

 

They’re a block away and they can hear the music. Ned’s roommate smiles at him, eyes flashing. It’s barely ten and they’re already stepping over a drunk kid in the yard, passed out on the walkway. 

 

Once they’re inside, Ned has a drink in his hand. He swallows, looking down at the amber liquid.

 

“It’s just beer,” Joan says. “Don’t worry, I won’t abandon you.”

 

…

 

“How did you two meet?”

 

“High school,” Flash says. “Peter went to Midtown as well.”

 

“Oh!” Mrs. Thompson says, recognition obvious on her face. “You were on the decathlon team as well, right, Peter?”

 

“Ah, yes.” He feels like a deer caught in the headlights of a tractor trailer, but Flash squeezes his hand under the table and he almost feels safe.

 

…

 

Ned is abandoned within twenty minutes, his solo cup still full. The party is nothing like the one he went to at Liz Allen’s house. He doesn’t know anyone, doesn’t know the music they’re playing or what he should do with his beer.

 

He ends up sitting on a couch in the corner, the dark beige fabric stained until the pattern was unrecognizable. For all the LGBTQ+ house prided itself on, Ned could tell it was only a step above a frat. 

 

Someone plops down on the couch beside him, their drink sloshing out of their cup and onto their wrist and hand. They laugh, loud and uncontrollable and drunk. He sighs, and wishes his roommate would come back and take him home.

 

…

 

“How long have you been...seeing each other?” It’s the first time Flash’s father has spoken the entire meal, and his eyes are dark and seem to peer into Peter’s entire soul. 

 

It’s even worse when he doesn’t know the answer, when doesn’t even know what he and Flash are. What counts as seeing each other? The first time they went on a not-date? The first time they kissed? The first time Flash let Peter sleep in his bed?

 

“Two months,” he finally says, when Flash came back into his life, when Flash captured his heart.

 

…

 

Forty-five minutes into the party, Ned starts drinking his beer. It’s lukewarm and gross and makes his nose wrinkle, but there’s too much going on, with the music and the chaos and the couple making out on the couch next to him. 

 

He catches glimpses of people he knows from around campus and the library and the coffee shop near his dorm, but he can’t put names to the faces or start a conversation. He ends up in the kitchen, drunk. He’s past his third beer and doesn’t know where is cup is anymore, but someone is chatting him up and the drinks just keep getting sweeter.

 

Everything feels hazy and he’s not sure what time it is or what his BAC is, but it’s the first time in months he hasn’t thought of Peter and he can’t find the energy to care. 

 

…

 

Flash’s parents leave the dining room to get dessert, and Flash pulls Peter close.

 

“You’re doing so well,” he says, pressing a kiss to Peter’s cheek, “I know you were scared.”

 

“I’m fine - “ he says, but Flash stops him.

 

“You didn’t have to come,” he stops, swallows, looks anywhere other than Peter, clammy hands shaking in Peter’s, “But thank you, for doing this for me.”

 

…

 

“Sorry I abandoned you, Ned, one of my friends saw his ex and I had to run interference - “

 

Ned looks up at Joan, laughs, mouth tasting like Jolly Ranchers and sunshine and a tropical island out in the Pacific. “It’s - “  _ hiccup  _ “ - It’s fine. I had lots of fun with…” He frowns. He doesn’t know who he had fun with; he’s alone in the kitchen, can hear the music thumping through the walls, the bass jacked up high enough to make the miniature red solo cups bounce around on the countertop. “I had fun.”

 

“God, you’re so wasted,” Joan says. They wrap an arm around Ned’s midsection and lead him out of the house. “Let’s get you in bed.”

 

…

 

“Thank you for coming over, Peter,” Mrs. Thompson says, handing him a ceramic dish of leftovers. The bottom warms his fingers. 

 

“Of course,” he says, “It was wonderful to finally meet you.”

 

Once the door is shut, he and Flash kiss in the snow, the moon the glowing overhead.

 

…

 

Ned is laying in bed, the duvet pulled up and tucked beneath his chin. His feet are cold in his socks and the waistband of his jeans irritates his hips.

 

“Try to stay on your side,” Joan tells him. “I don’t want you to choke on your own vomit. You can keep your phone, in case you need me, but try to not text anyone you’ll regret.” They leave, flicking off the light and locking the door behind them.

 

His mouth feels numb as he texts Peter,  _ I miss you. _

 

…

 

Peter wakes up at four AM, his phone vibrating on the bedside table. He starts to sit up, but Flash pulls him back down, his face pressed down against Flash’s soft skin.

 

“Go to sleep,” he mumbles, voice heavy with sleep. “It’s too early.”

 

Peter listens. After all, the bed is warm and whatever it is can wait.

 

…

 

Ned wakes up with a tongue like sandpaper and a headache reminiscent of a train lurching along the tracks. He groans, rolling onto his stomach and covering his head with a pillow to block out the sunlight that leaks through the blinds. 

 

Joan opens the door before slamming it shut. “You need to drink water and take aspirin,” they say. They dig through their drawers. 

 

“God, you’re so fucking loud,” Ned mumbles. Speaking hurts.  _ Existing  _ hurts. “Can you please turn off the sun?”

 

Joan just rips off his blankets. “You need to go to class, pretty boy. Have fun with that hangover.”

 

…

 

When Peter and Flash finally climb out of bed on Friday, it’s two PM and the coffee machine won’t heat up fast enough. Flash turns on the television to a random channel where they’re playing infomercials as Peter cooks pancakes.

 

“How did you sleep?” Flash asks, walking around the table to wrap his arms around Peter’s waist and press his cold face against his neck.

 

“Pretty well,” he says, flipping a pancake. It’s a bit burnt, but Flash likes them more on the brown side so he doesn’t mention it. “How did you sleep?”

 

“Fine, until you decided to get up and leave me,” he says, squeezing Peter’s side. Peter chokes on a laugh and drops the spatula. “Who texted you, anyway?”

 

“Never checked.”

 

Flash hums, “Love you.”

 

“Love you too.”

 

…

 

Ned is leaving his second class, headache still persistent but lessened in intensity, when his phone buzzes. It’s Joan, asking if he made any bad decisions once he got back to the dorms.

 

Ned doesn’t think so, but something still sticks out. He trips over a crack in the sidewalk when he sees the last person he texted, thirteen hours ago when he was drunk and half awake.

 

_ ‘I fucked up,’  _ he tells Joan in responses, not bothering to clarify. 

 

_ ‘Welcome to adulthood,’  _ is all he gets in return.

 

…

 

Peter stares at his phone. Flash went down the street to the bodega to buy ice cream to eat while they binge some documentary season Flash has been eyeing for months and he’s alone in the apartment, standing next to the couch but making no move to sit on it, and he’s staring at his phone, reading the text message for the first time.

 

_ I miss you. _

 

It’s from Ned of all people - time stamped for four in the morning, only one AM, out in the west coast where he lives now - his best friend from high school he hasn’t talked to in months or even really thought of in weeks. 

 

But Ned, who he had a crush on for three years of high school, who was never interested in Peter for all the time they knew each other.

 

He doesn’t text back.

 

…

 

Ned eats dinner alone that night. His phone is off, wedged between his mattress and the bed slats a quarter of a mile away in his dorm, but his unanswered text still weighs heavily on him, those three words echoing in his head -  _ I miss you I miss you I miss you. _

 

He’s stupid; why did he say anything? Peter isn’t - never really was, it would now seem - his friend. He was just the other weird kid at Midtown Tech that needed someone to make him seem a little less weird. 

 

But, Need Leeds still wasn’t good enough, and now he’s all alone again.

 

…

 

_ Get your ass back upstate,  _ Tony texts him.

 

_ I’m trying to sleep,  _ Peter replies five minutes later,  _ It’s five minutes later. _

 

_ I can see you on Twitter,  _ Tony says. Thirty seconds later,  _ Something’s happened  _ arrives.

 

_ I’ll be there in an hour.  _ He pulls on the spider suit, kissing Flash’s forehead before he leaves.

 

…

 

“You’re acting weird,” Joan says. They’re sitting next to Ned in the one gen-ed class they share. The fact they’re sitting in the front row is almost as surprising as the fact that they’re in class before the professor arrives. “You’ve been acting weird ever since the party.”

 

Ned doesn’t respond. He takes out his notebook and the powerpoint he printed out the night before and arranges them on the table. 

 

“I just - I know you texted that guy you used to have a crush on in high school, but you’re in college now. If you like someone, you suck their dick. Grow up, Ned.”

 

…

 

“What does he want, Vision?” The sun is beginning to melt the nightly snowfall as it rises over the headquarters. It’s cold, even with Karen and the suit to keep him warm.

 

“If you wish to keep your position on the team, you must attend bi-monthly training sessions with the other Avengers,” Vision says, hovering just above the floor. “You’ve been skipping them.”

 

“That sucks,” Peter says, pulling down his mask. “Call me when you actually need me.”

 

…

 

It’s two in the morning and the only light still on is the flickering light of Joan’s laptop on their desk when Ned finally says, “Peter has a boyfriend. I saw it on his Facebook page the day after the party.”

 

“He lives three thousand miles away, you were never more than friends, and you haven’t talked in months. Grow up,” Joan says, their voice thick with sleep. “Stop being such a fuckboy.” They pause for a half second too long, setting Ned on edge, “Unless - who is he dating?”

 

“Flash Thompson.” The word tastes bitter in his mouth, like steel, like coal, like blood. “We - I - hated him in high school. He used to call Peter ‘Penis Parker.’ I just - I don’t understand.”

 

Joan sighs. “You don’t have to. I don’t think your opinion really matters when it comes to their relationship. As long as Flash and Peter are both happy, isn’t that enough?”

 

…

 

“Where were you?” Flash asks in the morning when Peter gets home. “I - missed you.”

 

“Tony wanted me,” Peter tells him, peeling off the spider suit. There’s a tear where he snagged it on a tree. Already, he can see Karen beginning repairs. “I’m sorry. I should have woken you up and told you.”

 

“It’s okay,” Flash says, but his knuckles are white around whatever book he’s reading and his hair is messy in the way it only ever gets when he’s up waiting for Peter to get home from a mission.

 

“I’m fine,” he says, “I’m fine.”

 

“I know,” Flash says, and then, “I love you.”

 

“I love you too,” Peter says, smiling, heart warm.

 

…

 

Ned turns nineteen, turns twenty, turns twenty one. Nothing changes and he doesn’t want it to, either. Joan and he keep rooming together, don’t say anything about it.

 

He sees Spider-Man on the news every few months fighting corrupt governments and aliens. Ned tries to see the avenger as just that - a hero, not the boy he once knew as his best friend.

 

It gets harder to keep the walls up when he sees the engagement ring, the silver on Flash’s finger on Peter’s Facebook,  _ he said yes  _ and a million hearts. 

 

He turns twenty two the next day and tells himself he’ll never go home.

 

…

 

“You can’t just - you can’t just get  _ married,”  _ Tony says, shaking, voice too loud for the interior of the town car. A vein on his forehead is throbbing directly opposite his twitching eyelid. “It’s not allowed.”

 

“I’m  _ sorry,”  _ Peter snaps. “When you told me I was flying to Europe to join the Avengers and fight a rogue Hydra agent, you didn’t mention the clause about having to stay single and miserable forever just like  _ you.” _

 

“You’re still a child - “

 

“I’m twenty two, Tony,” Peter says, opening the car door, “And you can’t stop me.”

 

…

 

Ned is still twenty two when his sister gets married and he has to fly home. It’s colder in December during his winter break in Manhattan than it ever was on the west coast.

 

He stays in his old bedroom in his parents’ apartment in Queens. He tries to not think of about how close he is to Peter, the closest in years, and breathes a sigh of relief when conflict breaks out on the other side of the world and the Avengers assemble under UN orders. It only lasts two days, but it is long enough for Ned to find his bearings. 

 

Two days before the wedding, Ned is drunk enough to tell his sister everything and she’s drunk enough to find everything hilarious, bursting out in laughter every time he doesn’t fill the airspace for longer than a second.

 

“You’re fucked, baby brother,” she says, choking on a mouthful of beer. “You’re screwed straight to Hell.”

 

“What do you mean?” he asks, already scared of whatever answer he’ll receive.

 

“I invited both of them!”

 

He downs two beers and prays for alcohol poisoning to take him out before he has to see the happy couple.

 

…

 

Peter holds Flash’s hand as they walk into the wedding pavilion, feels the engagement band through the soft leather gloves. 

 

“I don’t know anyone here,” Flash says. It’s a rare occurrence for him to sound this nervous, for him to be missing his trademark confidence. “I barely knew Ned, let alone his sister.”

 

“You didn’t have to come - “

 

“That’s not what I meant,” Flash interrupts, tightening his grip on Peter’s palm for half a second. “You just need to make sure no one’s second aunt corners me.”

 

…

 

Ned’s sister straightens his bowtie, pins in his orchid boutonniere. She’s not in her dress yet, but her silky black hair is brushed back and decorated with the same species of orchids and baby’s breath.

 

She looks like an angel.

 

“Nervous?” she asks, cracking a wry smile as she smoothes down his tuxedo jacket. “You just have to walk me down the aisle. It’s not brain surgery; you’ll do just fine.”

 

A few seconds past and when he doesn’t speak, she presses, “It’s about Peter, isn’t it?”

 

“I haven’t seen him in four years. I don’t even know the last thing I said to him.”

 

Except, he does. He’s never forgotten.

 

…

 

He holds Flash’s hand throughout the ceremony, watches Ned Leeds walk his older sister down the aisle. He didn’t known their father had died.

 

When she says  _ I do,  _ he squeezes Flash’s hand, mouths  _ I love you. _

 

And when Ned starts to cry, holds his fists behind his back so his mother and sister can’t see them shake, Peter wishes he still knew him.

 

…

 

Ned Leeds is twenty two when he hides from his crush in the bathroom of his sister’s wedding.  _ Twenty two,  _ not a child, not a love struck teen, but a twenty two year old getting his masters in computer engineering from Stanford.

 

He should be out dancing alongside the rest of the reception party guests, but he saw how  _ they  _ looked at each other, saw what he didn’t have.

 

He should have taken up his sister’s offer to invite Joan, even if they would have taken every opportunity to drag him out of his shell.

 

He flinches when the bathroom door slams open, hands shaking when he sees who stands in the doorway in their mirrored reflection.

 

…

 

“I’m sorry.” The words are out of his mouth before it’s even fully formed in his brain, leaping off his tongue at the sight of Ned. The buttons on his jacket are undone and his hair is pushed back off his forehead. “I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s fine,” Ned says, and it may have been four and a half years since they saw each other but they’ve known each other for ten and Peter can spot Ned’s fake smile a mile away, the same one he gave Peter every time they ran into Flash in the hallways. 

 

Peter doesn’t know when he lost him, but he knows he has, and he knows he’ll never get Ned Leeds back.

 

…

 

Peter Parker has always apologized too much. Ned told him that the first day they met and he would tell him that again now, but he doesn’t think they’re close enough, he  _ knows  _ they’re not close enough, for Ned to point out that Flaw.

 

He doesn’t say any of that, barely managing to force, “How are you?” up his throat and through his teeth.

 

“Fine,” Peter says, still standing in the doorway, cheeks red and obviously uncomfortable. “It’s good to see you.”

 

It’s been four and a half years and Ned isn’t sure he feels the same way.

 

…

 

Between every word that comes out of his mouth, he thinks of the text message -  _ I miss you I miss you I miss you  _ \- and of how he never texted back, of how he’s the reason they’re still hung up all these years later.

 

“I missed you too,” Peter says. He knows that Ned had been talking but he can’t remember what he had been saying, because  _ I miss you  _ is the only thing he can think of and it’s playing on repeat in the back of his mind like a metronome. “I missed you and I didn’t know what to do when you were on the other side of the country and Tony wanted so much from me and I’m sorry I never texted you back and I know nothing I can think of is a valid excuse after all this time, I just - “

 

“Peter,” Ned stops him, finally turning away from the mirror. His eyes are watery and bloodshot, but he smiles when he says, “It’s okay. I was never mad at you.”

 

…

 

And he’s not lying - as hard as he tried, he could never hate Peter, because Peter is  _ Peter,  _ and he’s never been able to hate him.

 

“I’ve never hated you,” he adds, because he knows Peter and his hands are shaky like he’s about to run straight back to the city. “I just missed you and didn’t know why you never said anything and now you’re dating  _ Flash  _ of all people and we’re at my sister’s wedding and you have your whole life figured out and I moved to the other side of the country and my only friend is my roommate and -”

 

“Do you want to come over to my place?” Peter asks, “It’s better than a bathroom, and I feel like this conversation will be easier if you actually met Flash.”

 

Ned swallows. “Yeah. Yeah, that’ll be good,” he nods, and follows Peter into the belly of the beast.

 

…

 

Peter can feel Flash’s glare burning into his spine as they walk to the car. Neither of them say anything until they’re in the car, when Flash finally breaks the silence with, “It’s so nice of you to join us, Ned.” The words are acidic. Peter mouths  _ I’m sorry  _ at Ned through the rearview mirror. 

 

He tries to not think about high school, about the person Flash used to be. He’s grown up a lot in five years. Ned barely knew him back then, doesn’t know him now, but Peter does. Flash has changed.

 

Peter is sure he has.

 

…

 

By the time they get back to the city, it’s half past ten and the temperature is dropping. They end up in an empty cafe that’s open twenty four hours and worked by two tired employees under the dirty yellow light. The glass coffee creamer dispenser is empty. The only thing left in the display case is day old blueberry muffins.

 

Flash is drinking burnt coffee, glaring at Ned over the top of his styrofoam cup. Ned’s tea is cold already, milky and gritty and sour. 

 

“So,” Flash finally says, setting his cup down on the stained tabletop. He leans forward, chin resting on his palms. His eyes glint in the in the light as he smiles, half lidded and barely showing his teeth. “How did you two meet?”

 

Ned isn’t ready for where this is headed.

 

…

 

(They’re eight and Ned is all Peter has ever known. Every hiccup, every stumble, every fall - Ned catches him.)

 

(He’s so young when Uncle Ben dies, but Ned is there for him, pieces his world back together and fills the missing pieces in the form of test answers when Peter is too lost to study and half of his lunch when May is too fucked up to cook. He helps him with his Midtown Tech application and keeps them together.)

 

(Peter left him behind.)

 

…

 

Ned leaves Peter and Flash’s at three am, hops on the train. His parents are asleep, but he still has a key to their apartment tucked inside his wallet. He locks the bathroom door behind him, runs the shower and calls Joan.

 

They pick up on the second ring, breathless, ask, “What happened?”

 

“I still love Peter, and Flash hates me just like I told you.” Tears prick at the corners of his eyes. He shouldn’t love someone like Peter. He forces himself to say, “They look happy.”

 

“Obviously they do. They’re getting married.”

 

“Shut up.”

 

“Too bad you’re not here to - “ Ned hangs up before Joan can finish, and five seconds later they send him a text -  _ rude. _

 

He falls asleep in the shower and tries to forget about everything.

 

…

 

He calls Ned in the morning. Flash is at work and the apartment is as quiet as it ever gets in Queens. “I’m sorry about Flash. He’s usually not that bad. I wouldn’t have invited you if I knew he would treat you like that.”

 

“It’s okay,” Ned says, even when they both know it’s not. Flash dragged him through the metaphorical mud less than twelve hours ago; even if they had moved past it, Peter remembers high school clearly enough to know how it stings. He tries not to think about it  _ (Penis Parker).  _ He does anyway.

 

“We should meet again,” he says, “just the two of us.”

 

…

 

It’s easy enough to pretend nothing’s changed, but Ned’s eyes are still drawn to Peter’s hand, the left ring finger and thoughts of the ring that’ll be on it soon enough.

 

They’re in Washington Square Park, walking around puddles of melted snow. Ned’s hands are shoved deep into his coat pockets, squeezed into fists.

 

“I haven’t been here in ages,” he tells Peter, but he doesn’t quite know where  _ here  _ is - this side of the country, New York, the park, beside Peter. He’s always with Joan - Joan, who doesn’t push when Ned can’t handle it; Joan, who always seems to know just what Ned needs like he’s fucking psychic. 

 

Ned wants the universe to tell him why he couldn’t love someone like Joan.

 

…

 

Something happens every time he looks at Ned -  a warmth in his chest despite the weather, a flutter in his stomach despite the cereal he ate an hour ago. He feels it every time he looks at Flash, every time they cook dinner and listen to music and dance as the sun sets over the city.

 

He shouldn’t feel it for Ned, not again, not after all these years. He shouldn’t, because he loves Flash and they’re getting fucking married and they’ve lived together for years and he hasn’t seen Ned in five years, barely knows him anymore, but there’s a fire burning in the bottom of his stomach that he can’t seem - nor want - to put out.

 

They walk to the train station and Peter doesn’t say a word until he’s getting off at the stop two blocks from his apartment, whispers  _ goodbye  _ and runs.

 

…

 

_ WE NEED TO TALK. _

 

The text echoes in his head like a brand. He knows what Flash is going to say the second he opens his mouth, but it still hits like a sucker punch - “I know you love him.”

 

“I - I’m - “

 

“It’s okay,” Flash smiles, but it’s not sincere.

 

“I love you.”

 

“I know you do,” he says. “But do you love me more?”

 

“Of course I do.” He doesn’t know why it tastes like a lie.

 

…

 

He graduates and gets drunk with Joan. There’s jello shots and rum and cokes and horror movies on Joan’s laptop, a nightlight on in the corner to light the room until it’s the unholy spawn of a church sanctuary and a burnt out forest. Joan asked what he was going to do about Peter and Flash, and Ned doesn’t know, swallows a swig of rum straight from the bottle until Joan pries it out of his shaking hands.

 

“You need to decide,” they say. “You can’t put it off. You owe that much to yourself, even if it’s not for Peter. You can’t keep thinking about what could have been and what you used to have. You  _ need  _ to talk to him, or you’re just going to be miserable.”

 

“He’s getting married - “

 

“Your mouth can do more than suck dick,” Joan says. The light of his computer makes his face glow red and bloody.

 

“That’s not how Flash sees it.”

 

“Then make him.”

 

…

 

Peter misses Ned. He hasn’t seen him in six months when the longing finally set in. It’s awkward and doesn’t fit in his chest, these late night thoughts. They didn’t come before the wedding, and now when he’s looking at sample napkins and chairs and centerpieces with Tony’s credit card in his pocket, he thinks and misses and wishes Ned was there, wonders where he would have been if he had pushes instead of letting Ned drift away.

 

“I was thinking vermillion.” They’re in their fourth boutique of the day, eighth of the week, and doubt is starting to set it, pressed against the longing. He tells himself every morning and every night and every time he kisses Flash that this is what he’s wanted for years, but the longing grows. 

 

“Vermillion is fine.” He thinks of Pepper and Tony and tells himself that he won’t be the same - that he can be happy and in love and not break the threads that hold him together, that keep him pressed against Flash, even as the longing and the doubt grows like black mold between them.

 

…

 

Ned holds the phone in his hand, Peter’s contact pulled up, a picture of them together from back in high school from when May took them to the park before prom. Things were easier then.

 

Joan’s in the other room, playing Zelda under the pretense of giving Ned privacy, even if they both know the walls are cement and paper thin.

 

He presses call, and holds his breath.

 

…

 

It’s dark in their apartment but this city never sleeps. The longing has grown all the way to his mouth and thrives there every time an  _ I love you  _ dies on his teeth. It’s dark, but he still sees the recoil in Flash’s bones before it happens.

 

“You - what?” Flash isn’t fragile; he’s the steel support beams and concrete of Stark Tower. But in that moment, his voice is five-hundred-year-old glass hitting the sidewalk forty feet below. “You want to postpone the wedding?”

 

“I’m not entirely set on vermillion?” It’s a weak lie and Flash can see through it, rip it to shreds in the same way Peter did to his heart.

 

“This is because of Ned, isn’t it,” Flash says, pulling himself out of bed. “God, I  _ knew  _ you were lying but I still trusted you.”

 

“It’s - “

 

“Save it,” Flash says, trudging out of their bedroom. Peter doesn’t follow.

 

…

 

“Peter?” Ned glances at the clock on his computer - it’s midnight in California. “Why are you awake? It’s like three AM for you - shouldn’t you be asleep?”

 

“I can’t.” Peter’s voice is cracking, wet and breathy. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called you. I’ll go.”

 

“Peter, wait - “ Ned’s voice catches in his throat. With Joan, Ned doesn’t have to worry. He knows they can take care of theirself. Peter can’t. Ned isn’t used to caring for people anymore. “Did something happen? Are you and Flash okay?”

 

“I love you.”

 

Ned doesn’t respond - doesn’t know how to, couldn’t make himself even if he wanted to.

 

“I know I shouldn’t, and I love Flash so much. I love you both, but Flash walked out and now everything is falling apart and it’s my fault - “

 

“It’s going to be okay, Peter. I promise. We’ll figure this out together.”

 

…

 

_ I’m sorry. _

 

_ Please come home I miss you can we please just talk? _

 

_ I love you Flash. _

 

_ Flash I miss you I’m so sorry I ruined everything I didn’t mean to please come home I can’t do this alone. _

 

_ Please talk to me I want to fix this but I can’t if I don’t know how. _

 

_ I’m sorry I keep bothering you. I’ll stop now. Please let me know if you want to get coffee or something and talk about moving forward. I love you. _

 

_ … _

 

“This is such a stupid idea,” Joan says. They’re sitting on Ned’s bed, watching him gather clothes. Ned throws tee shirts and jeans at them to fold and tuck inside his duffle bag. “How do you know you won’t just make things worse, or that he even wants to see you?”

 

“I don’t.”

 

“Did you even think this through?” When Ned doesn’t respond, Joan says, “Didn’t think so. This is going to blow up in your face.”

 

A few moments later: “For both of your sakes, I hope this works out.”

 

…

 

Peter jumps up from the coach when he hears someone banging on the door, slides through the apartment in his socks and hits a few walls in his haste to open it.

 

“Ned.” He’s not disappointed - he’s happy to see Ned, he really is - but it’s not... _ him.  _ “What are you doing here?”

 

“I was worried about you. And Flash, obviously. I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

 

Peter  _ isn’t  _ okay. The only reason he knows the last time he showered was because it was in the morning with Flash before he left two days ago. Their plants are already wilting and dishes are piling up in the sink.

 

“Thank you for coming, but you really didn’t have to - “

 

“I’m sorry,” Ned blanches. “I can go - “

 

“You don’t have to. It’s… it’s good to see you, Ned.” He takes a step to the side. “Come in. Do you want coffee or something?”

 

…

 

Ned watches Peter spend five minutes scrubbing a clean coffee pot. He opens his mouth to say something a few times, but Peter’s shaking hands and gritted teeth stop him every time. 

 

Another minute passes before Peter says, “You don’t like coffee.” He drops the pot. It bangs the side of the sink, loud. It shatters. Ned jumps, hears the glass wash down the drain. Peter just keeps staring at him until Ned reaches across the counter to turn the water off. “I had forgotten that.”

 

“It’s okay - “

 

“I told you I love you and I didn’t even remember you hate coffee. I’m so  _ stupid.”  _ Ned can see tears welling up in the corners of Peter’s eyes until he scrunches up his face. “I’m sorry.”

 

“Peter, it’s okay - “

 

…

 

“It’s  _ not.”  _ Peter’s hands are shaking. He clutches the dishcloth, feels his nails biting into his palms even though the fabric. “I - I can’t function anymore.”

 

“How is the Spider-Man stuff going?” Ned asks. “When’s the last time you talked to the Avengers?”

 

Peter appreciates it - Ned dragging him off to another topic to get his mind off of Flash, he really does, but he hates how weak he is. He hates how well Ned knows him, even after all this time.

 

“O - okay. Miles is doing most of it these days. I’ve been busy. I help Mr. Stark in the lab sometimes.”

 

“And that’s going well?”

 

“Yeah,” Peter says, smiles. For the first time in weeks, it’s genuine. “Yeah, it’s going well.”

 

…

 

Ned knows, no matter what Peter says, he doesn’t reciprocate his feelings. Ned’s okay with that. He really is. Something made Peter fall in love with Flash, and one fight and Ned flying cross country won’t change that. That’s fine.

 

But he loves Peter, loves him enough to break his own heart if it means Peter will smile a little more and be happy again. 

 

He should have listened to Joan, shouldn’t have done this to himself. He should have put himself first, especially after all these years, instead of Peter. But Ned Leeds has never been very good when it comes to people, and he’s even worse when it comes to Peter. 

 

He can’t stay in New York forever. He can’t even stay particularly long. But he can make Peter better, even if he beaks himself in the process.

 

…

 

Ned’s asleep on the couch when Flash comes back. 

 

“What is he - “

 

“Shut up,” Peter whispers, dragging Flash into their -  _ his  _ \- bedroom. “Where have you been?”

 

“It doesn’t matter - “

 

“It doesn’t  _ matter?”  _ Peter’s hands are clenched at his side. His jaw hurts already from grinding his teeth. “You just left and - “

 

“So you invited Ned to come and make you feel better?” Flash spits out. He’s loud, and Peter hates it, hates that this is what they’ve become ever since the wedding. 

 

“That’s not what happened. I didn’t ask him to come.”

 

“But he would have, if you had asked him.” 

 

…

 

The walls of the apartment aren’t nearly thick enough for Peter and Flash’s argument. Ned is staring up at the ceiling in the dark, barely breathing. A spring in the couch is digging into his back and their words are pounding in his head and he wants to cry, but he’s scared that every sound he makes they can hear just as easily as he can hear them. 

 

“But I didn’t have to ask him. He wouldn’t walk out on me like you did.”

 

“Oh, so Ned from fucking high school is better than your fiance now?”

 

“I didn’t say that - “

 

“But you thought it.”

 

…

 

Peter’s crying now, eyes screwed up tight. His arms are wrapped around his waist and every second he hates this more - he feels like he’s back in high school with Flash bullying him. He feels weak, like he’s been shoved under water and Flash won’t let him back up.

 

“If you’re going to say things like that,” he says, voice weak and quivering, “You can go back to wherever you’ve been for the past however long it’s been.”

 

“Fine,” Flash grits out, “But I hope you realize this means we’re done.”

 

…

 

It’s morning, and the sun is beginning to break through the blinds. Ned makes tea and coffee while Peter makes pancakes with Spider-Man faces on them. They eat in silence before washing the dishes side by side. Peter’s hands shake and he drops a bowl, watches the broken pieces spread across the floor.

 

“I’m - “ he starts to talk, but his voice trips over the words and he finds he can’t speak.

 

“It’s okay,” Ned says, “I’ve got it.”

 

…

 

Ned’s worried about Peter, but he doesn’t know what to do. Doesn’t want to step on Peter’s toes, wants to give him time to heal and figure out his place in the world. Doesn’t know if Peter even still wants him, with how everything fell apart.

 

“Why didn't it work out?” Peter asks. They’re watching reruns of Seinfeld in the dark. Ned never watched it growing up, and he’s too focused on Peter to ever even hope to piece it together. 

 

“Sometimes, things just aren’t meant to be.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! this was supposed to be ned/peter/flash which clearly didn't happen and an example of why planning is important  
> kudos/comments/requests are appreciated   
> tumblr - shuos-jedaos/claude-lit  
> twitter - cactixix


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